


I am Fine

by Mayor_Ravioli



Category: Phineas and Ferb, The Iliad - Homer
Genre: Buford and Baljeet are reincarnations of Achilles and Patroclus, M/M, Reincarnation AU, because why not?, major character death because everyone knows what happens in The Iliad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 12:26:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15291507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayor_Ravioli/pseuds/Mayor_Ravioli
Summary: "I am fine," he said, and not even a minute later he was gone.After nearly losing Baljeet to the Pharmacists, Buford's dreams feed him memories of another life.





	I am Fine

“I am fine.”

Sitting in his bedroom, arms wrapped around his form as he hunched forward, Buford repeated those three words in his head. Eyes closed, his lips moving as if to form them though no sound escaped past his chapped lips.

“I am fine.”

“I am fine.”

“I am fine.”

Except he hadn’t been. Not even a minute passed between those words, before a gnarly hand had gripped Baljeet’s shoulder, causing the boy to turn. The boy’s fear filled cry would haunt Buford, helpless to stop the infection from taking his reign over Baljeet’s mind and body. Turning him into nothing more than some mindless pharmacist. 

Not knowing what else to do, Buford had stripped himself of his armour. Having no need for the protection if the one who wished to protect the most were gone. He had accepted the infection, for he couldn’t bear to be himself without Baljeet by his side.

A time later, they had returned to themselves. Slowly but surely finding their way home. 

That night Buford dreamed of war. 

He dreamed of yelling, of screaming, of spears finding their place in the enemy. Buford himself was like a beast, taking ten times as the next best and not breaking a single sweat as he fought like a thing possessed. A face had broken through Buford’s eyesight of blood and guts and glory. A face older than what Buford knew, but there was no denying who it was. Bronze eyes bright, a warm smile, too warm for the carnage around them, given and meant only for him. And him alone. Baljeet. 

Together, the two fought back to back. Never daring to let anyone near enough to harm the other. 

Buford woke with a name on his lips, one that he had never spoken in life and yet he felt like it was one he had said a thousand times.

“Patroclus.” 

Pa-tro-clus. 

The dreams continued since then, and more faces than just Baljeet’s forced themselves into Buford’s dreams. Friends, foes. They all mixed together, and Buford could never truly say who he saw, and where he saw him. For he only saw one person.

He saw the way his face lit up as he looked upon the starry sky, more stars than Buford had ever seen before. He saw that mischievous smirk, the kind only Baljeet could make. The look he gave Buford as Irving’s brother spouted nonsense. The furrow of Baljeet’s brow as many began to die from a plague Albert’s decisions had cursed them with. He saw the way Baljeet faltered at Buford’s yells. He heard his soft voice, begging Buford to let this go, for they stood no chance without him.

He saw the tears that welled in Baljeet’s eyes as he threw himself onto Buford. Begging Buford, because if Buford didn’t act everyone would die. He saw the way Baljeet picked himself up when Buford refused, Baljeet’s voice unwavering as he told Buford that if he were not to fight, than he would do it for him. He took Buford’s armor.

He left alive, and came back dead. 

Buford awoke with a scream, his fingers twitched as he felt as though he could still feel Baljeet’s cold body beneath his fingertips. 

He ran. 

He ran from his bedroom, from his home. Paying no mind to how dark the sky was, how late it was, as he found himself at Baljeet’s house in record time. He pounded upon the door, and it was answered by Baljeet’s mother. Her robe pulled over her body, mouth open as if to yell at Buford for awaking her in that hour, but Buford paid her no mind.

He squeezed past her into the house, blinded by tears as he rushed through the house and flung Baljeet’s bedroom door open.

‘He stopped, eyes wide as he looked at Baljeet’s form. Still upon the bed.

Had the dream been true?

And then, a miracle. Baljeet moved, and even in the dark Buford saw Baljeet’s eyes flutter open. So beautifully bronze. 

He spoke, and Buford wept. Rushing forward to take Baljeet’s wonderfully alive self into his arms. His ear pressed upon Baljeet’s chest, listening to the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. He heard Baljeet’s words, whispered in his ear. And he laughed before answering.

“I am fine.”

I am fine, because you are here. And I will never let history repeat itself like that again. 


End file.
